


Finding The Right Time

by Diamond_Raven



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diamond_Raven/pseuds/Diamond_Raven
Summary: Following a hostile takeover of the time travel agency, Agent Arthur Pendragon is left stranded with Agent Merlin Emrys in the distant past. While waiting to be rescued, he and Merlin have to figure out how to live as flatmates in the 20th century and cope with the thought that they’ll never get home again, all while figuring out what the word home really means.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 125





	Finding The Right Time

Unlocking the door of the small, dingy flat he and Merlin had managed to rent a few days ago, Arthur steps inside to be greeted by the pleasant smell of dinner. He’s hungry and the scent of the stew lifts his spirits a bit, but not enough.

At the sound of the door closing, Merlin glances over from where he’s sitting on the window sill, a paper book on his lap. “Any luck?”

Arthur snorts and takes off his coat, hanging it up on the hooks by the door and dropping in the chair at the small table. He tosses his portal key on the wooden table. The odd contrast between the old, wooden table and the shining, blinking device is normally something he’d enjoy but now it just reminds him of their current situation. “No.”

Sighing, Merlin closes his book. “I made dinner. It’s stew again, but that’s the best I can do.”

Arthur nearly opens his mouth to laugh at him and remind him that Merlin can look up how to cook anything he wants on the internet...until he remembers the internet won’t exist in this timeline for almost a hundred years. “Thanks. Yours still tastes better than my attempts.”

Getting up from the table, Arthur takes a small, chipped bowl off the wooden shelves above the stove and fills it with Merlin’s stew.

While Arthur eats dinner, Merlin stays leaning against the window, looking as anxious as Arthur feels. “It can’t be a technology problem,” he says quietly.

Sighing into his stew, Arthur swallows his mouthful. It feels like a clump of lead in his stomach and that has nothing to do with Merlin’s limited cooking skills. “You don’t know that.” Except it’s a near certainty at this point.

“It’s been a week and the agency has the best and brightest people working for it. Even if there was a catastrophic problem, they would have put in a temporary fix to get all the agents home. Or at least sent us a message.”

As much as Arthur hates thinking about it, Merlin’s right. He’s never heard of the agency encountering a situation where they’ve left agents stranded for a week. Agents had gotten stranded for longer, but they’d always been in situations where it had been their fault, not the agency’s. They’d gotten captured or maybe injured. Their portal keys had malfunctioned or the agents had lost or broken them. Or maybe there’d been some type of interference in the area that prevented a portal from opening.

Unfortunately, none of those situations apply here. He and Merlin had done every diagnostic test they can think of on their keys and they’re both fully charged and functioning. Just to ensure, they both sleep with the keys clutched in their hands so they’re fully charged by the next morning. And they know portals can easily be opened here. After the completion of their mission, one of their fellow agents had opened a portal just behind their current flat and he’d taken their captured criminal target with him. Then it had snapped shut and none of Arthur or Merlin’s efforts to open another one had worked.

“The problem has to be on the agency’s side,” Merlin murmurs, his voice tight with worry.

Arthur agrees, but that’s even more worrying. What could possibly be preventing the agency from contacting them or bringing them home? This has never happened before.

“Maybe there was an earthquake and the agency building was heavily damaged. Or an explosion,” Merlin says quietly.

Shuddering at the thought, Arthur puts his spoon down. “Merlin, stop it. Please.”

“I’m just trying—”

“It’s pointless to theorize about an issue that we have no information on.” What he doesn’t say is that Merlin’s words are making his anxiety twist into genuine fear. It’s bad enough to think that they’re stuck here for who know how long—and the possibility of having to spend the rest of their lives in 1903 looms larger with each passing day—but Arthur’s been clinging to the hope that his father is busy doing everything to bring him and the other agents home. Entertaining the thought of Uther having been killed in some tragic accident or deliberate sabotage leaves his stomach twisting and heart pounding. It makes him feel unbelievably alone and that’s the last thing he needs right now.

“Oh, damn, I’m sorry,” Merlin says, sliding off the window sill. “Arthur, sorry, I forgot about your father. I didn’t mean to imply to something must have happened to the Director.”

Arthur struggles to draw in a breath through his tight throat. “I know it’s a theory that makes sense. I _know_ that. The more time passes, the more clear it’s becoming that something’s preventing my father from bringing us home or even contacting us. But I can’t...” he squeezes his eyes shut, clutching the spoon hard enough that the cheap metal is starting to bed. “Please, try to follow protocol.”

He hears Merlin’s footsteps as he shifts his weight on the floor boards. “Right. Rule number three. Stay positive.”

That reminds Arthur of what his father would be expecting of him in this current situation. He’d expect Arthur to be following protocol and that’s what Arthur will do. Because his father’s not dead. His father has a perfectly logical reason for not having contacted them, just like there’s a reasonable explanation for why they can’t open any portals. That means Arthur needs to focus on finishing his dinner and staying distracted so he and Merlin can stay in good spirits and they’ll be in good shape when the agency comes to get them. Because that’s what will happen.

Opening his eyes, Arthur glances at Merlin’s worried frown and quirks a small smile at him. “Have you ever played with paper playing cards before?”

Merlin frowns, thrown by the change in subject but thankfully taking Arthur up on it. “Paper cards? No.”

“Well, this will be a first for both of us. I bought us a pack.”

His face lighting up, Merlin grins at him. “That’s a great idea! I was getting tired of reading books all day. It wouldn’t be so bad if the stupid paper things weren’t so damn heavy and it always takes me too long to remember that tapping on the page won’t flip it over.”

Letting Merlin’s enthusiasm pull his mood into a better place, Arthur returns his smile. “Let’s see if we can continue making fools out of ourselves trying to play with paper cards as opposed to holographic versions. Fetch them out of my jacket pocket, will you?”

* * *

“I don’t care about these terrorists’ demands!” Uther snarls, his temper finally snapping after having listened to the Prime Minister’s fence sitting rubbish for the past fifteen minutes. Really, Uther’s been listening to it all week and he’s had enough.

Everybody around him is staring at him looking shocked or annoyed, but Uther’s exhausted every ounce of respectful decorum he’d mustered up for dealing with this fool. Uther will happily play politics all day long if it’ll get him what he wants, but Arthur’s been stuck 300 years in the past for a week and Uther hadn’t even been permitted to check his tracker to see if he’s still alive or not, so Uther’s lost all patience for the situation.

The Prime Minister draws himself up to his full height—which still puts him several inches lower than Uther—and juts his chin out. “This isn’t your decision, Director. I’m in charge of the situation and we will not use force to deal with the activists.”

“They’re not activists, they’re terrorists!”

The Prime Minister’s eyes flash. “I’ve informed you multiple times that such language is problematic. We will not address people who have concerns as being terrorists.”

“Even if they infiltrated a government institution, executed a dozen people within that institution, destroyed equipment worth millions of pounds and are currently holding the institution under lockdown in an effort to get their demands met?! Not to mention the dozen agents who are stranded in different timelines with no say in the matter?!”

“I intend to negotiate with the anti-temporal activists and come to a peaceful resolution.”

Uther has to clench his fists so he doesn’t try literally shaking sense into the man. “They don’t want to negotiate! They want the agency and everything it stands for dissolved.”

“Director, it’s clear that we’re viewing the situation differently but the bottom line is that I’m the Prime Minister and thus, I get to dictate how we will deal with the issue. I strongly urge you to stay out of the situation or risk facing the consequences.”

Uther wants to retort that he doesn’t give a damn about his job when his son is stranded in time, not to mention that the Prime Minister will probably end up agreeing to dissolve the temporal agency and then he’ll be out of a job anyway. But clearly, trying to get the Prime Minister to change his mind using the tactics he’d tried up to now isn’t working. Uther will have to get more creative to get Arthur and the other agents home. What the country does with the agency or time travel in general after that isn’t his main concern.

* * *

The card games are the distraction they’ve both been waiting for. It’s hilarious to watch each other constantly tapping on their cards or dropping their entire hand on the table because they keep thinking the cards are holographic. They play all the games they know and they make up a bunch of new ones and track their wins in a notebook.

Another distraction is one that had caught Arthur off guard. He’s actually really enjoying spending time with Merlin. They’ve teamed up on various missions for years but they’d never socialized outside of work, never mind spending twenty-four hours a day together. Now, Arthur’s getting to know Merlin in a way that completely new to him. Merlin’s funny and intelligent and hasn’t crumbled into a useless lump in their current situation.

Merlin’s also physically attractive and that’s...leading to even more distraction. At first, Arthur had been sure that his attraction to Merlin had been purely due to their circumstances. But lately, Merlin’s been giving him these lingering looks that Arthur recognizes as being ones he tries to keep himself from giving in return. Whether to do anything about the situation is something Arthur has been pushing off because he figures he should focus on more pressing concerns like rationing their money and finding ways to stay busy.

Thankfully, playing cards where Arthur has to deal with Merlin laughing and staring at him across the table doesn’t take up all of their time. They go out for walks twice a day to go shopping for food and make multiple attempts to open portals whenever they come across an empty side street. Watching the little device blinking red as it attempts to connect always makes Arthur’s hopes rise, until the device eventually times out and the words ‘failure to connect’ flashes across the screen. That’s when his hopes come crashing own again and he spends the rest of the day trying to distract himself from worrying about the future.

* * *

On his way back to their flat, Arthur adjusts the bag strap over his shoulder; the library books inside shifting around. His heart’s currently aching again because he’d made yet another attempt to open a portal and been unsuccessful. It’s been two weeks now and there hadn’t been any sign that anybody from the agency is looking for them or working on getting them home.

His heartache makes his feet take a detour and he finds himself on a familiar street, in front of a familiar building.

Well, not really. The current street will technically stay in the same geographical location for the next 300 years as London changes around it and the street is paved over dozens of times. The building he’s staring at also isn’t the same one that will be here in 300 years. It’s currently an inn and Arthur knows it’ll get torn down in 1972 and replaced by a bank. That will stay in place until the 2246 economic crisis forces the bank into bankruptcy and the government will buy it and start renovating it. In 2253, the new building will be finished and it’ll serve as the headquarters of England’s time travel agency.

Staring at the small inn with cheerful bunches of colourful flowers lining each of the small windows, Arthur gets a lump in his throat. He’s so close to home, yet so far away. His father must be standing somewhere nearby—they might even be standing in the exact same spot right now—but they’re separated by 300 years of time.

Arthur can’t bear the thought that he’ll be stuck here for the rest of his life. He’ll spend decades watching the inn get more worn down until the flowers are gone and the windows are boarded up and covered in graffiti. Maybe he’ll live long enough to see it get torn in the 1970s, but he definitely won’t live long enough to see it become the agency.

Every single day that goes by brings that harsh reality closer. Arthur might have to spend the rest of his life in the 1900s. He might never get to see his father or any other part of his old life again. His throat tightens and he wants to grab the inn and somehow tear a hole in the time continuum himself so he and Merlin can step across the 300 years that are separating them from home.

But he can’t.

* * *

His arms crossed over his chest, Uther glares across the street at the agency building. Armed anti-temp terrorists are patrolling the front and preventing anybody not associated with the group from entering. The military had closed off the street to all but local traffic due to fears that the situation might turn violent at any moment. When Uther had been refused entrance to any further meetings with the Prime Minister related to the situation, he’d immediately called the realtor who was selling the vacant office building across the street from the agency and he’s rented the office space directly across from it.

He has a desk and a pull-out couch and there’s a curry take away a few streets over and that’s all he needs. When he has to bathe or attend meetings, he’ll go but then he comes right back here. If anything changes with the situation, Uther doesn’t trust the media or anybody else to tell him about it. He wants to see things first hand and he wants to be first in line when it’s time to storm the building and bring his son home. It’s been twenty years since he’s left the military, but he’ll grab his gun and be the first through the door, no matter what.

Unfortunately, nothing much changes from one day to the next. The terrorists keep saying that they’re not going to leave until the Prime Minister has extended the time travel ban to the government, while the Prime Minister keeps insisting that “they’re negotiating” and “he’s seeking a peaceful resolution that will satisfy the activists and the people of England”.

At first, Uther had hoped that he could hack into the network or maybe the security system and see what’s going on inside the agency but it seems the terrorists have very capable tech people in their midsts. Uther had tried for days but he didn’t get anywhere. At the very least, he wants access to the tracking maps that will show him whether Arthur and the other stranded agents are alive or not and exactly where and when they are. He remembers Arthur’s mission had been very routine and it involved going to the early 20th century, but his file had been one of a dozen on Uther’s desk and he hadn’t paid much attention to it. After all, he’d never imagined that a few hours after Arthur had left, Uther’s new personal assistant would come into his office and try to shoot him; never mind having the agency turn into a battle field.

On one hand, he knows it’s useless to sit here and stare at the building as if he can open a portal through sheer force of will, reach through and bring Arthur home. But in an odd way, being so close to the building makes him feel better. Like he’s closer to his son. Of course, that’s ridiculous but Uther refuses to go home and spend his days pretending that everything’s alright.

* * *

While he’s scrubbing Merlin’s shirt in the large basin of soapy water, Arthur can’t put in the required physical effort that will actually get the shirt clean because his swirling dark thoughts are sapping his energy. Whenever he passes the inn near their flat or he’s falling asleep next to Merlin in the small bed, he’s reminded that yet another day has passed without any signs of rescue and the possibility of spending the rest of their lives here is becoming more realistic.

“Arthur? Are you alright?” Merlin’s standing next to him while Arthur’s standing frozen, Merlin’s wet shirt clutched in his hands.

Giving his head a shake, Arthur shifts his jaw and continues scrubbing the shirt. “I’m fine. Sorry, I drifted off.”

To his surprise, Merlin takes the shirt out of his hands. “Let me finish it. Go get the cards set up. We’ll play whatever game you want.”

Arthur doesn’t want to play cards. He wants to go home. But saying that will make Merlin sad too and that wouldn’t be following protocol. Arthur isn’t following protocol right now anyway, but forcing Merlin to go down the wrong path too won’t help matters.

He keeps standing there, battling the ridiculous urge to cry. He’s a grown man and getting stranded is a risk that all temporal agents agree to when they take the job. And he’s not just any agent but he’s the Director’s son. He should be a lot tougher than this and Merlin witnessing his display of weakness is embarrassing.

But to his surprise, Merlin doesn’t get annoyed with him. Instead, he drops the shirt on the edge of the wash basin and pulls Arthur into his arms.

It’s shocking to feel the warmth of Merlin’s arms around him but what’s even more shocking is how Arthur instantly clings to him; relishing how solid he feels. He presses his face into Merlin’s neck as he shakes a bit; his throat tightening.

“We’ll be alright,” Merlin whispers, running one hand up his back and tangling it in Arthur’s hair. “No matter what, we’ll sort this out.”

“We might be stuck here for the rest of our lives,” Arthur chokes out. He’d meant the statement to come out as a strong rebuttal but instead, the words are drenched in misery.

Merlin’s arms tighten around him. “Even if we are, we’ll make the best of it. We’re both smart, capable people and we’ll make it through.”

“Merlin—we’re stuck 300 years away from home!”

Merlin rubs his back. “I know.” Merlin’s voice sounds a bit strained too and he’s clinging to Arthur just as desperately.

They stand there, shaking and struggling not to cry in each other’s arms, stuck between what their training is telling them and what their hearts are yearning for.

* * *

They’re playing another card game and Arthur’s sure Merlin’s cheating. There’s no way the man was dealt three Aces by random chance. No way. “You’re cheating, Emrys.”

Merlin widens his eyes at him and has the audacity to laugh at him. “For the hundredth time, no, I’m not! You shuffled and dealt the cards. I know it’s strange that I’ve gotten so many Aces, but it’s your terrible shuffling technique that’s to blame, not me.”

Arthur doesn’t believe him. “You went out and bought another deck of cards, didn’t you?”

Laughing, Merlin rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe—Jesus Christ, fine!” He puts down his cards and holds up his arms. “Come here and inspect me head to toe. Show me where these extra cards are hiding. Or would you like me to strip naked?”

Arthur narrows his eyes at him. “I think you’re using reverse psychology on me.”

That makes Merlin laugh harder. “You’re too much sometimes, you know that? I’m serious, come here and search me so we can finally get back to the game and I don’t have to keep listening to your accusations.”

Since Merlin’s not willing to give in, Arthur drops his own cards and swings around the small table and grabs for Merlin’s buttoned up shirt. Merlin’s laughing and wiggling around as he bats at Arthur’s hands and instantly, the game changes. If Merlin’s going to make things difficult, Arthur won’t let him win so easily. Releasing his shirt, Arthur grabs his hands as they laugh and tug back and forth. After a hard tug, Merlin manages to yank their hands down to his lap, which brings their faces within inches of each other.

They’re so close to each other that Merlin’s breath is warming Arthur’s face and a pleasant tingle spreads through him. That attraction which has been simmering in his gut for days becomes more intense and Arthur’s smile slides off his face as he stares at Merlin with wide eyes. He wants to close the distance between them and kiss him. He wants to kiss Merlin. He wants to touch Merlin. He loves hearing Merlin laughing and sighing but he wants to hear what sounds he’ll make when they’re naked together.

But the only question is—does Merlin want that too?

Thankfully, Merlin’s eyes are darkening with heat and his lips part slightly as his eyes dart between Arthur’s eyes and his lips. He’s panting a bit and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“Merlin...” Arthur breathes out, desperation clear in his voice.

“There’s two ways this can go,” Merlin whispers.

Arthur’s body is tingling so he can only think of one way but he’ll hear Merlin out. “Uh huh...”

“Either you let go of me so I can go for a very long walk and possibly stop in the loo outside for some...privacy. Or you can let me kiss you and do all the things I’ve been thinking about lately.”

A jolt of arousal slams through him and Arthur nearly climbs into Merlin’s lap. His hands are shaking as they still clutch Merlin’s. He wants to say something cheeky or sophisticated, but his brain is already floating in the clouds. “The...the second one,” he mumbles.

Merlin grins, his eyes shining and he looks very pleased by that, which is amazing. “That’s the one I was hoping you’d pick.”

Then Merlin releases his hands and pulls Arthur onto his lap and catches his lips in a warm kiss.

* * *

It’s remarkable what a difference it makes to be allowed to touch Merlin and be touched by him all the time. His days no longer start with the crushing realization that it’s the start of another day of existing in the wrong time and dealing with slowly fading hope. Instead, he gets to start his days smiling at Merlin across the pillow and softly kissing him awake as Merlin groans and a smile spreads over his face.

Arthur no longer has to sit alone on his side of the table or on his side of the bed while reading. Merlin will throw his socked feet into Arthur’s lap while they’re reading and they’ll take turns curling up in each other’s laps while they read their own books or they listen to each other reading out loud.

Whenever Arthur’s cooking and Merlin’s at the flat, he’ll wrap his arms around Arthur from behind and nuzzle his hair with his nose and kiss his neck while he makes snide comments around Arthur’s cooking skills.

If Merlin goes out for a few hours, Arthur doesn’t even wait for him to take off his coat before he’s pressing Merlin against the door and sliding to his knees to suck him off and feel Merlin clutching his hair and moaning his name.

At night, the only thing better than covering Merlin’s body with his own and sinking into him is when Merlin fingers Arthur for ages until he slides into him and hooks Arthur’s legs around his waist as he pants against his lips.

It’s both wonderful and terrible at the same time because they’re always aware that they might be making the best of a bad situation but this isn’t home. Their keys still return an error message whenever they try to open a portal and the inn down the road still stays an inn and there are some nights when Merlin will press up behind him and cling to Arthur a little too hard and press his lips to the spot on the back of Arthur’s neck where the tracking chip is implanted.

They’re 300 years away from home and there’s nothing they can do to close that gap.

* * *

As he’s walking back to the office, Uther throws his customary glare at the armed terrorists polluting the front steps of his agency. It’s been a month since the terrorist attack and Uther has nearly exhausted all of his options for bringing Arthur and the others back home. He’s called in every favour he’s owed, he’s threatened and begged anybody who could help, he’s put on a disguise and attempted to gain access to the agency by pretending to be one the terrorists, but all to no avail.

The last option is one that weighs heavily on him because of how hypocritical it would be, but he has no choice. He’ll have to turn to the black market to make his own temporal portal generator and a tracking map so he can find and retrieve all of the stranded agents. It’s a decision that will lead to a lengthy prison term and it’ll completely decimate the legacy he’d built for himself and Arthur, but that’s a better alternative than leaving his son in 1903.

“Excuse me? Director Pendragon?”

At the sound of a woman calling his name, Uther glances over. He recognizes her instantly. He often sees her sitting on a bench below the office he occupies so Uther assumes she’s one of the locals, living in one of the flats surrounding the street. She’s always sitting there, staring at the agency. It’s something they have in common, but he has no idea what she might want. “Yes?”

She smiles when she has his attention. “My name is Hunith Emrys, sir.”

The name means nothing to him. “How can I help you, Mrs. Emrys?”

Her smile becomes strained. “My son, Merlin? He’s one of your agents. He’s stranded with your son, Arthur.”

Uther blinks and tries to remember what he knows about Agent Emrys. Unfortunately, he doesn’t come up with anything. He’s too busy to get to know all of the agents and Arthur’s paired up with different agents all the time. But hearing that this woman is Merlin’s mother does make him feel a connection to her. If there’s anybody who understands what he’s been going through over this last month then she does. “I apologize but I don’t know your son personally.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “That’s alright. I just wanted to know if you have any news about our boys. Have they allowed you to contact them at all?”

“Unfortunately, no. I haven’t even been able to access the tracking map so I know as much about their status as you do.”

Her face falls and it’s clear she’d hoped he would have some answers. “I see. Well, thank you for taking the time to speak with me, sir.”

Then she offers him a shaky smile and returns to sit on her bench, right across from the agency and the armed guards. From a safety standpoint, Uther doesn’t think that’s the smartest decision. “Ma’am, perhaps it would be better if you stayed in your flat, rather than in such close proximity to the terrorists.”

She shoots him a smile and it’s tinged with steel. “I’ll be fine, but thank you for your concern. I parked my car a few streets away so I’m fine while sleeping.”

Uther blinks. Why on earth is the mother of one of his agents sleeping in a car? He pays his agents well and if she had such a terrible relationship with her son that he would let her sleep in a car rather than support her, then she probably wouldn’t be so worried about the situation.

Hunith smiles at his confusion. “I’m from Ealdor, sir. I drove down as soon as I heard what happened and I’m not leaving here until I have Merlin back.”

That still doesn’t answer his question. “There are plenty of inns nearby where you can stay.”

Her smile becomes a bit strained. “Money’s always been tight for us and I can’t afford that. But I’m fine sleeping in my car. I’d sleep on the bench if I had to. I’m not leaving until Merlin’s come home.”

Her attitude instantly appeals to Uther and he quickly reassesses her. This is clearly a woman who’s willing to do anything to get her son back. Maybe he can recruit her to be part of his little opposition team? “Mrs. Emrys, would you be interested in helping me get our sons back?”

Her eyes light up with immediate interest. “Of course! I’ll do anything. Well, unless it requires money.”

Uther smiles. “That’s something I can provide. If we put our heads together, we might be able to come up with something and bring our sons home.”

She eagerly returns his smile. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

* * *

Three days later, Hunith comes into Uther’s office, an excited grin on her face. “Did it start yet?”

Uther’s sitting on the couch, eagerly staring at the screen across from him that’s projecting the evening news from his computer. Hunith has been spending most of her days in the office with him because she’s finally agreed that staying out on the streets wasn’t safe. Thankfully, she’d also allowed Uther to pay for her to sleep at one of the nearby inns, rather than her vehicle but their days are spent in the office, staring at the agency across the street and working on their various plans to get their sons home. “Not yet. Have a seat. Would you like some curry?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

The news starts while Uther’s preparing a plate for Hunith and he joins her on the couch as they eat dinner; Hunith’s foot tapping on the floor from excitement. After a boring update from the Prime Minister where he says the same rubbish he’s been saying for a month, the news anchor is back and introducing the new segment that Hunith and Uther had come up with and pitched to the news stations.

“Starting from tonight, we’re going to be doing a series focusing on the innocent victims of this situation: the 15 temporal agents who have now been stranded in various locations and various time periods for one month. Tonight, we’ll be interviewing Hunith Emrys, the mother of Agent Merlin Emrys.”

Uther’s already smiling but when Hunith’s interview starts, his smile gets even bigger. Just as they’d discussed, Hunith spends a lot of time focusing on how she’s a single mother and how close she and Merlin are and how much she misses her son.

“I’m going to start crying in a bit, just watch,” Hunith says, shooting him a grin.

And sure enough, a few tears slip down Hunith’s face on the screen while she talks about how scared she’d been and how terrible it is to know her precious little boy is so far away and might even be dead.

Uther knows her emotions are mostly genuine but he’s thrilled that Hunith had listened to all of his advice and done everything possible to tug on the heart strings of viewers. Up until now, the Prime Minister has gotten away with doing nothing because most of the public doesn’t care about time travel related legalities and because the situation hasn’t changed in a month, public interest has moved on. But attaching a human face to the situation will hopefully make the public feel sympathy, as they should. The stranded agents have nothing to do with the terrorists’ issues with the government and they shouldn’t continue paying the price.

The idea of going on television to make a public appeal for support had been on Uther’s mind for days but he’d held off because he doesn’t want his own face leading this push. In fact, he hopes things will have resolved before it’s his turn to do his segment on Arthur. While he’d love to do his segment purely as Arthur’s father, everybody knows who he is and what he represents. It would turn into a morality discussion about time travel and that would take focus off the agents once again or worse, tip the situation in favour of the terrorists if Uther loses his temper with stupid questions.

But a single mother pleading for her son’s return? A mother who had worked two jobs to provide the money for her son to attend agency training?

There’s no way the public will continue staying on the sidelines.

* * *

Merlin’s lying on Arthur’s chest while they’re in bed and Arthur’s spending more time playing with Merlin’s hair than reading the book that’s next to him, but Merlin doesn’t seem to mind.

“We’re running out of money,” Merlin murmurs.

Arthur hums in agreement. “We’ll need to start looking for work. I could do with some new clothes too.”

Merlin hums against his chest. “Me too.”

Oddly enough, the thought of getting jobs and starting to make 1903 a permanent home doesn’t frighten Arthur as much as it had before. Rolling them over, Arthur stares down at Merlin. “I hate being here and I hate the thought of us being stuck here for the rest of our lives, but I’m glad I’m stuck with you.”

Merlin smiles up at him, his eyes soft. Leaning up, he kisses Arthur. “Me too.”

Arthur smirks down at him. “You mean you’re glad you’re stuck here with yourself?”

Laughing, Merlin pinches Arthur in the side, which makes Arthur yelp and then they’re wrestling on the small bed, hoping neither of them will fall off.

* * *

“Sir, Mrs. Emrys isn’t authorized to be here.”

Uther brushes past the concerned agent, Hunith on his heels. “I’m the Director and I’m authorizing her, so she’s authorized.”

His heart’s in his throat as he hurries to the control room to get to the tracking map. The agency’s a disaster and it’ll take weeks to put everything back into order, but at least the government has reclaimed the building. The public outcry that had followed once the stranded agents had become more than vague faces had been just as strong as Uther had hoped and the Prime Minister realized he’d be jeopardizing his re-election chances if he continued to cater to a small minority who were essentially holding 15 innocent people hostage.

Once they’re in the control room, Uther sits in front of the tracking map and he’s about to put in Arthur’s ID number, but then he pauses and switches over to the directory so he can find Merlin’s number instead.

Hunith is hovering over his shoulder. “No, no, start with Arthur.”

“None of this would be happening without you. We’re starting with Merlin.”

After putting in Merlin’s ID number, Uther holds his breath as the screen shows a map of the world. If it returns an error message, that means Merlin’s dead.

But thankfully, the computer instantly starts zooming in on the UK, then England, then London and even further. A red dot blinks on the screen, just two streets over from where they’re currently sitting. The date indicates today’s month and day but the year is 1903.

Uther smiles. “Merlin’s currently sitting two streets away from us but also 300 years in the past. He’s alive.”

Hunith lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God!” Her voice is thick with tears.

While she absorbs her relief, Uther’s quickly putting in Arthur’s number. This time, his heart is in his throat and he’s desperately hoping he won’t get an error message. But once again, the map instantly starts zooming in...and Arthur’s currently located right where Merlin’s located.

They’re both alive and just two streets away but also hundreds of years in the past.

“It’s bizarre, isn’t it?” Hunith says quietly. “They’re so close, yet so far away. We could go stand right where they are but we wouldn’t be able to see them.”

Uther smiles. That strangeness is exactly why he’s always loved this job. “Give me the other names. We’ll check everybody and then I’ll put together retrieval teams.”

* * *

Sitting on the wooden floor in front of the oven, Arthur constantly has to yank his hands back so he doesn’t pull open the oven door to peek at his pie.

Reaching over, Merlin grabs one of his hands. “Don’t. You’ll ruin it.”

“What if it’s already ruined?”

“Then what difference does it make if we find out now or ten minutes from now? But if you wait, we might end up with an edible pie.”

Arthur grumbles but pulls his hands back. “How the hell do you know that it needs ten more minutes?”

The stupid recipe in the stupid recipe book they’d bought only said ‘bake it well’ for the baking instructions, which is utterly unhelpful.

“It’s an enormous pie and I don’t think it’s physically possible for it be done in just fifteen minutes of cooking. Let’s give it twenty minutes at least and then peek.”

Maybe Arthur’s not doing a good job hiding how much he hates having to wait because Merlin chuckles and pulls him down so he’s lying with his head on Merlin’s lap. Lying on the wooden floor isn’t very nice, but having Merlin playing with his hair makes up for it. Things get even better when Merlin’s hands start to wander and go down to rub his arse.

Unfortunately, Merlin’s hand eventually stops. “Do you think we built the fire properly? The heat doesn’t feel as intense as it did when we started.”

One would think they’ve gotten the hang of properly making different types of fires by now, but this baking business is a whole new world. “If I sit up and add more wood to the fire, will you go back to touching my arse while we wait?”

Merlin laughs. “Sure.”

Shoving himself up into a sitting position, Arthur grabs two pieces of wood from their wood pile and carefully opens the fire door next to the closed oven door. The fire’s definitely not burning as well as it had been earlier and Arthur carefully pokes and prods at it with the new sticks until they’ve joined the inferno. Shutting the door, he looks longing at the closed oven door. “I wish the damn thing had a window. I think the person who invented putting windows in oven doors didn’t get nearly enough credit.”

Chuckling, Merlin rubs his back. “That’s true. Now get back here and lie down so I can go back to groping you and you can avoid yanking the door open and ruining our hard work.”

Arthur releases a dramatic sigh as he makes himself comfortable on Merlin’s lap again. “The things I do for you.”

* * *

“Sir, you haven’t travelled in years and your safety certifications are all expired.”

Ignoring panicked voices is something Uther’s becoming very good at these days as he rifles through the hangers holding clothing that will allow him to blend into the 20th century. Finding a buttoned shirt that looks like it’ll fit, he shrugs off his uniform top and pulls it on. “Feel free to file a complaint and I’ll put it on my record when I get back.”

“Sir—”

Uther stops buttoning the shirt and fixes the agent with a hard stare. “Either be quiet or help me get ready.”

The agent sighs heavily, but then he’s going towards the racks holding trousers from the correct time period.

* * *

Grinning at his cards, Arthur wiggles his eyebrows at Merlin and lays down a run with much more flourish than necessary. “Beat that, Emrys.”

Merlin purses his lips and throws him a mock-glare. “Your luck today is unbelievable.”

Arthur smiles and reaches into his lap to pinch one of Merlin’s socked toes. It’s true that his luck today was pretty good. He’d found two job possibilities and he’ll be going back tomorrow for informal interviews at both places to see if it’ll work out. Plus, the chicken dish he’d made them for dinner had turned out fantastic and now he’s winning his second hand in a row.

“Yeah, yeah, you keep looking smug over there,” Merlin grumbles, frowning at his cards.

Merlin pouting can only have one response and Arthur grins as he shoves Merlin’s feet off his lap, drops his cards and swings around the table so he can kiss him. Merlin makes that pleased sound that he always makes when Arthur does it and he drops his cards to runs his hands through Arthur’s hair.

“You know it’s only partially luck,” Arthur whispers against his lips.

Smiling, Merlin rubs his nose against Arthur’s. “And what’s the rest of it?”

“You.”

Merlin pulls back a bit and stares at Arthur while Arthur’s heart glows and he can’t stop smiling because everything feels so right. Well, not everything. Everything outside of their flat—meaning, being in the wrong time period—is still annoying and he misses his father and his previous life desperately, but the new life he’d created with Merlin doesn’t feel as frightening or off-putting as it did weeks ago.

The moment is shattered by a knock on the door. It makes Arthur and Merlin frown at each other because they rarely get any visitors.

Standing up as Merlin’s hands fall from him, Arthur heads over to the door. He’s not worried enough to dig his gun out of his bag but he still stops before he unlocks the door. “Who is it?”

“Arthur? It’s me.”

His breath catches and everything stops as Arthur recognizes his father’s voice. He takes a moment to glance at Merlin, sure he must be hallucinating, but Merlin’s shot out of his chair with wide eyes, so this must be real. This must be…

Arthur rips open the door and there’s Uther, dressed in ill-fitting clothes. His face is pinched with worry and he looks much older than he really is, but the relief that floods his eyes when he sees Arthur makes it real.

His breath is caught in his throat and Arthur wants to burst into tears. His father’s here, which means they can go home. They can leave this time behind and go back to their old lives. They can finally go home.

It seems Uther doesn’t know what to say either because he just grabs Arthur in a tight hug. His father’s clinging to him and shaking a bit and the display of affection is even more meaningful because there are two other agents standing in the corridor, carefully averting eyes and Uther doesn’t seem to care.

“I was so damn worried,” Uther mutters, squeezing him so tight that it’s hard to breathe but Arthur doesn’t care.

“Me too,” Arthur mumbles.

Finally pulling back, Uther looks Arthur up and down as it to reassure himself that he’s really in one piece. “You’re alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Merlin and I have been...taking care of each other. We’re fine.”

Uther looks past him and Arthur glances at Merlin, who’s come shuffling closer to the door, grinning. “Hello, Director.”

His father directs an uncharacteristic soft smile at Merlin and gives him a nod. “Hello, Agent Emrys. Your mother’s anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

“My mum?!” Merlin sounds like he’s two seconds from bursting into tears and Arthur nearly reaches out to squeeze his hands but he restrains himself. They’re going home, which means Arthur has no idea how much of this wonderful but bizarre life they’d created here will come with them. He has no right to assume.

Uther clears his throat. “Yes. She’s been instrumental in getting all the agents who were stranded back home. She’s waiting at the agency. I left her in the portal room so you’ll see her as soon as you arrive.”

That’s when it hits Arthur that they’re about to go home. They’re going to pack up their things and leave this flat behind forever.

From there, things become a whirlwind. He and Merlin don’t bother packing much—the future inhabitants of the flat will be happy to get their additional clothes, books, dishes and food—but they grab their bags and as he’s passing the table, something makes Arthur stop and sweep up the well worn playing cards and their small notebook where they’d tracked their scores and stuff them into his bag.

Then they head out and for the first time in weeks, when Arthur does the honours and activates his portal key, it actually connects. Merlin lets out a sound that’s a combination of a whimper and a sigh when the signal goes through. Fog fills the empty side street, obscuring the view of anybody passing by and finally, a dark slit opens in the middle of the street and slowly expands, creating the wormhole that will bring them 300 years into the future.

When it’s his turn, Arthur steps into the portal, closes his eyes and holds his breath as the intense forces press and pull on his body, making it impossible to breathe. When it’s over, he opens his eyes and steps out of the open portal and onto the familiar portal room floor in the agency.

There’s a crowd of people in the room, along with television cameras and news anchors and Arthur has time to blink before there’s a swell of noise and people advance on him from all sides, firing questions and touching him. It’s all very overwhelming, considering he’d been sitting in the quiet flat, playing cards with Merlin only half an hour ago. Thankfully, Uther and other agents shield him from the chaos and bring him to the wardrobe room where he’ll be able to get changed.

Before he passes through the door, he sees Merlin coming through the portal and his heart jumps with the need to make sure he’s safe from the chaos and the crowd, but it turns out he didn’t have to worry. A woman pushes her way through the crowd and Merlin lets out a relieved cry of “Mum!” and grabs her in a tight hug. Arthur knows exactly what it feels like to receive one of those hugs and he smiles as he lets himself get pushed along and leaves Merlin to his reunion.

* * *

A week after coming back home, Arthur’s a sad, moping mess. It’s ridiculous because he should be over the moon. The entire time he’d been stuck in the 20th century, he’d been desperate to get back home. Now that he’s achieved it and he’s back to the life he’d missed so much, he should be filled with joy.

Except he’s not.

He’d come to the startling conclusion that while the entire ordeal had been traumatic, his relationship with Merlin had provided him with happiness that he’d been sorely lacking in his life. He and Merlin had essentially sped their way through a dozen relationship milestones within the space of a few weeks and he’d loved every moment of it.

They’d lived together, they’d cooked together, they’d slept together, they’d read together, they’d played cards together, they’d spent hours talking about anything and everything. Not to mention the sex. And the kissing. And the hugging.

And now...Arthur’s back to living in his lonely flat, all by himself. He’d been looking forward to getting back home and being able to put his new cooking skills to use with his kitchen’s modern technology, but cooking and eating by himself leaves him feeling lonely and sad.

Night time is the worst. He’d gotten so accustomed to sharing a bed with Merlin that he can barely sleep. Never mind when he wakes up in the middle of the night and panics because he doesn’t know where Merlin is. He doesn’t know what’s worse: the panic or coming to the realization that Merlin’s not here because he’s sleeping in his own flat, far away from Arthur.

The truth is that it didn’t matter what century he and Merlin had gotten stranded in. That has nothing to do with it. Arthur had fallen in love with Merlin and joined his life with Merlin’s and having that cut off so abruptly hurts.

He keeps their notebook next to his bed and he constantly reads through it, remembering the circumstances surrounding certain scores. Their playing cards are there too and Arthur spends ages sitting in bed in the middle of the night, shuffling the familiar cards in his lap while his heart aches.

The worst is that he’s made an effort to remain in contact with Merlin, so it’s not as if Merlin’s shoved him out of his life completely. They call each other every few days but the conversation is nothing like it used to be. They don’t seem to know what to say to each other and the awkwardness makes Arthur shift into a formal tone that makes Merlin uncomfortable and turns the conversation into an even bigger mess. All the impacted agents have been given paid leave while the agency is put back together and Merlin’s gone to Ealdor with his mother. While that’s very good and Arthur can hear how happy he is to be back with his mother and in his childhood home, Arthur finds himself feeling jealous about it. He chats with his father every few days, but Uther’s been very busy with the agency and there isn’t much for them to talk about anyway.

It takes days until Arthur realizes that the problem is solely with him, not with Merlin. While being with Merlin, Arthur had lived a life he’d never experienced before and it had clearly impacted him much more than Merlin. But there’s nothing Arthur can do about it. Whining to Merlin that he’d broken Arthur’s heart through no fault of his own would be cruel and pathetic. So all Arthur can do is continue living his life and hoping things will go back to the way things were, even if he finds himself dreaming about their little flat in 1903 and desperately wishing they could go back there.

* * *

His phone rings in the middle of the night, which is very odd. Blinking his eyes open, Arthur gropes for the phone on his bedside table. But as soon as he sees Merlin’s number on the display, adrenaline floods him and he sits up and frantically answers the call. “Merlin? You alright?”

Merlin sighs. “Yeah. Shit. Sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night but I just couldn’t...I need to have this conversation but I’m too much of a coward to do it while I’m fully awake. I figured I’d give it a try while I’m sleepy and see how it goes.”

Arthur’s heart is still pounding. “Okay.”

“I’m coming back to London in a few days.”

“Right...”

“The lease on my flat actually expired while we were gone. My landlord was fantastic and didn’t throw my things into the rubbish and I’ve paid the missing rent, so that’s fine. But I’m now technically not on a lease.”

Arthur has no idea what this has to do with him and why Merlin was too anxious to talk about this during the daytime. Blinking to clear the last bit of sleep out of himself, Arthur shoves up a pillow behind his back. “Are you going to sign a new lease? Or are you looking for a new place?”

Merlin sighs again. “That’s the thing.”

That doesn’t answer Arthur’s question at all. “Sorry, I don’t—”

“Arthur, I’m in love with you.”

Arthur freezes and his breath catches.

“Well, I think I am. I probably am. I’m not sure. But anyway, what’s certain is that I really miss you. I miss committing cooking crimes with you. I miss beating you at cards and having you pinch my toes. I miss listening to you read to me. I miss...other things. Lots of things.” Merlin makes a strange noise before continuing. “Look, I understand that our situation was very strange and things moved very quickly from start to finish. I understand if it was just a temporary thing for you but in case there’s a chance, then I wanted to ask before I signed a new lease.”

Arthur’s shaking and his eyes are brimming with tears, which is ridiculous. “I took our cards,” he whispers.

“What?”

“I took our cards. And our notebook. I look at them every night.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but he has to get these words out. He has to make Merlin understand that there’s not just a chance but it’s a certainty set in stone. “I thought I’d love cooking in my kitchen with my oven that has a window and doesn’t involve any soot. But I hate it because you’re not here.”

Merlin draws in a breath and it sounds shaky. “Would you like a flatmate again? In the 23rd century this time?”

Arthur grins so hard that his jaw aches. “I want you as a flatmate in any century.” Then his smile fades a bit. “But if being my flatmate is all you want, then I’m fine with that. I—”

“Arthur Pendragon, you’re an idiot. Well, we’re both idiots. We should have had this conversation a week ago but instead, we spent a week suffering because we’re idiots.”

Arthur laughs. He wants to reach through the phone and pull Merlin right through it. “When are you coming home?”

He realizes what he’d said the moment the last word is out of his mouth, but before he can take it back for being presumptuous, Merlin lets out that warm chuckle that Arthur’s missed so much. “Two days. I’m helping mum with a few things first.”

“Don’t go to your flat first. We’ll get your things later. Come here first. Please.”

Merlin laughs, sounding relieved. “I’ll be there.”

* * *

Two days later, Arthur’s an excited mess for the entire day and he spends way too much time cleaning his flat and cooking up a storm. He makes three different pies because he’s not sure which one Merlin will like the best. Then he’s attacked by a case of nerves because maybe Merlin doesn’t like pies that much? Their dining options had been very limited when they’d lived together before but that’s not the case in their current century.

But before he can start freaking out over which pies to get rid of, there’s a beep from his intercom system. He hurries over and presses the button that activates the video screen, and there’s Merlin. He’s shifting nervously but he’s smiling and Arthur makes a stupid sound as he presses the code to let Merlin in.

It’s agony waiting for the knock on the door, but it finally comes. When Arthur rips open the door, Merlin’s standing there, looking just as excited and scared as Arthur feels. He doesn’t even say anything, he just shoves his way inside, slams the door shut and pushes Arthur up against it before kissing him hard.

Arthur melts against him as he clutches his shirt, relishing Merlin’s familiar scent and feeling his lips against his own again. He’d missed this so much.

“I made you pies,” Arthur mumbles in between kisses.

Merlin pulls back a bit and a bright smile lights up his face. His eyes are shining with a soft glow. “Did you bake them well?”

Arthur laughs and presses their foreheads together. “I hope so. You can be the judge of that.”

Humming, Merlin kisses him. “As excited I am to eat a pie that you baked in your 23rd century kitchen as opposed to a 20th century one, it’ll have to wait. I missed having you in a bed with me.”

Joy lights up his heart and Arthur laughs. “Not as much as I missed you.”

Taking Merlin’s hand, he pulls him towards the bedroom. Merlin hasn’t even been in the flat for more than five minutes but already, the place has that same feel that their little flat in 1903 had developed.

This is home.


End file.
